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Monthly Archives: May 2014

COLOSSEUM by David Graham

Aldo Porrinho made his way into the Colosseum. At the edge of the arena he paused with his hands in his pockets and gazed down into the ruins of the dungeons. When he turned to move on he collided with a group of schoolboys. In that instant he lost his balance, toppled backwards, fell, struck his head and lost consciousness.

He opened his eyes. Shadows. He rubbed his eyes. People in rags, standing, sitting, lying, on straw that smelt of piss and shit.

‘Neco! Neco! Neco!’ Clapping, roaring, screaming, stamping: seismic vibrations rise up through the stones, the sand, his knees, his bloodied body, his tormented mind. One by one he crawls to his opponents, places his hands either side of their head and breaks their neck.

‘Aldo. You’ve come back to us.’

‘Howie?’ What d’hell. Where am I?’

‘In hospital kid. You took a tumble in the Colosseum. Cracked your head. No damage. But d’fights off kiddo.’

‘What! The hell it is!’

‘To risky. We’ll reschedule.’

‘Howie. It’s the world heavyweight championship! You are not rescheduling!’

‘Ok! If you get the all clear. Then it goes ahead.’

‘I’ll get it.’

CAESAR’S PALACE.

THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT BOXING CHAMPIONSHIP

Aldo porrinho v the reigning champion Paul Wilder.

Wilder goes down in the fifth.

‘Aldo! Aldo! Aldo!’ Clapping, roaring, screaming, stamping. ‘Neco! Neco! Neco!’ Seismic vibrations rushing through the floor, rising through the canvas, entering Aldo’s legs, rising up through his sweat drenched body, entering his damaged mind. He drops to his knees, crawls crossed the ring, places his gloved hands either side of Paul Wilders head and breaks his neck.